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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855032">I Never Knew</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_me_soldier17/pseuds/Call_me_soldier17'>Call_me_soldier17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, Minor Character Death, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:48:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_me_soldier17/pseuds/Call_me_soldier17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s said that dreams really do come true.</p><p>But for a girl in a world filled with battles and darkness and a mundane life of her own, she never really believed it. </p><p>Fighting for the light is harder than it looks. And when she finally gets a chance to make a difference, it seems pretending to be a man is just as difficult.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boil &amp; Waxer (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody &amp; Original Female Character(s), CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi Wan Kenobi &amp; Original Character, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I never knew... that dreams can sometimes come true</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I hope you enjoy this, and that it’s not too cheesy. I tried. This will have more chapters, and I will try to update fast. I’m new to AO3, and if there are any tags I need to add or any other tips you have they are welcome! Also comments make me write faster!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I dropped to the ground.</p><p>      Blaster fire flew over my head, the red tinting the night with it’s glow. After a brief pause, a blue glow washed over me as the counterattack came. Breath coming hard and fast, I could feel the ground beneath me shake from the pounding of droid tanks and the air humming with blaster fire. </p><p>     Carefully, I pulled myself into a crouching position, one hand going to the bag slung over my shoulder and the other going to the knife in my boot, like that was going to do a thing against guns. I wasn’t exactly out of my depth, I secretly practiced and could shoot just about as good as any clone, but this was the thick of battle and more than that, not my battle. No matter though, I had a job to do. Well, a self assigned job, but an important one nonetheless.</p><p>      I stood up straight and before anyone noticed my slim figure in the red-blue light, I darted, quick as a doe, towards the dark that wasn’t marred by blaster fire. Skirting around the edge of the battle, I hadn’t planned on getting as far in as I did but the droids moved faster than I expected, I trotted behind the clone lines. The clones, in my opinion, which is correct, are the good side in this war. They fight with the Jedi after all, and the Jedi, no matter what this war has turned some of them into, are overall heroes.</p><p>      Coming to a halt, I surveyed the expanse behind the clone lines. Plastoid clad bodies lay scattered across the ground, and without the eerie light of red and blue lasers, everything looks shadowed and dead. I knelt next to the clone next to me and pulled his helmet off gently. His eyes were open, but dull and staring at something I could not see. His head lolled in my palm, and checking his pulse, I realized he was already dead. </p><p>“Ni ceta, vod. Gar taab'echaaj'la solus. Re'turcye mhi, vod.” </p><p>      I laid his head upon the battlefield and stood up, brushing my bloodied palm against my brown trousers. I did the same to clone after clone. Most of the ones left behind had died, but a few were just unconscious, and those unconscious ones were the ones I was looking for. </p><p>      All my life I wanted to be a Jedi. I wanted to fight for what’s right and good, to be one with the force, and have a life dedicated to the light. I love the idea of an energy that connects everything living, and every night, even if it’s a bit stupid, I try and see if I can connect with it. It’s always been my dream, but I know that if I haven't found the force yet, it’s likely that I never will. Anyway, I’m too old to be a Jedi. </p><p>      The next best thing, I thought, was to fight beside a Jedi. The clones got an honor I was so jealous of, yet I realize that it might be an honor a lot of them don’t want. It’s probably horrible to watch your vode die, but at least they are fighting for a good cause. A beautiful light cause. Yet, obviously, I can never be a clone. One, I am not a guy. I’m a soon to be seventeen year old girl. Two, I do not look or sound like Jango Fett. And that would be a major problem. </p><p>      So with those dreams off the list, I’m trying to do the next best thing in my mundane life. I learned some basic healing skills from my parents and have been using them to patch up clones in the battle on my planet. Wrapping wounds, splitting broken arms, and stitching gashes is the best I can do to help the Jedi and the clones and the good side, even if I can never do it officially. I mean, if my parents found out I would be grounded for heading onto a battle ground. </p><p>      The next clone I approach is shaking slightly. His breaths coming in ragged pained gasps. With his helmet already gone, I can see the gash on his forehead that likely caused him to be unconscious enough for none of the other clones to notice him. Seems he woke up now. </p><p>“Shhhh, take deep breaths. I’m here to help, trooper.” I say in an attempt to calm him. </p><p>      Setting my bag on the ground next to me, and I gently place his head in my lap and search his trembling body for the wound that is causing his distress, the cut in his forehead, while bound to leave a nasty scar, should not be putting him in this state. I attempt to hide my gasp when I discover the blaster wound that pierces right below his collar bone. I… can’t do anything about that. It most likely collapsed his lung already, hence the ragged breathing, and the blood loss was way too much, staining the armor of the helmet and chest plate crimson. I bite my lip and fumble with the bandages, because well, I have to try. </p><p>      I’m startled out of my thoughts, when a hoarse voice makes its way to my ears. </p><p>“Don’t… don’t bother. I’m not… going to make it… save the supplies… for… my vode who can.”</p><p>      His eyes catch mine as I look down at him. Their amber-brown orbs filled with a sad determination of a soldier who’s made peace with death and offered it a hand willingly. I offer him a sad smile.</p><p>“You don’t know that for sure,” I lied, he spoke the truth, “ and I can’t just do nothing.” After coughing up blood and catching his breath he responded. </p><p>“Not… nothing. Just talk… to me… Tell me… who you… are… and your… story…” He swallowed hard, “It’d help… take my mind… off… this.”</p><p>      Well, I can’t very well say no to that can I. </p><p>      So I tell him about growing up. About the mundane life I lived, and my dreams of being a Jedi. I tell him about why I’m here and how I also wished to be a clone. He laughed at that.</p><p>      “I want to make a difference in this world. I want to be brave and good and strong. I want to fight in this war, but I never can. And I’m not sure how I can make a difference here. I’m not even that good of a healer.” I sighed, and ran my fingers through the dying clones hair, comforting us both. “ I can’t be a Jedi and fight against the dark, and I can’t be a clone and fight against the separatists. I’m just a common civilian who won’t make a difference at all.” </p><p>      I tugged on my braid, and then realized that the clone in my arms had gone silent. For a second I thought he had gone, but in reality he was staring up at me with a new light in his eyes. </p><p>“But… you can! Take… take my armour… and my… number… and you can be a clone… You can make a difference for… me and for you…” He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts, only determination left in his eyes. “CT-7214… that’s me… I’m… I'm a shiny so they… won’t notice anything amiss… please...?”</p><p>      “I’m not even a man! I can’t pass as a clone! I can’t even talk like you!”</p><p>      “Be… a mute. Just don’t… talk much… Please… you can make a difference for… for both of us…” He looked so hopeful, and I wanted this so bad. I can matter! This is my chance! I bit my lip before answering.</p><p>“Okay... But first, tell me everything, soldier.” And he did. I was going to be CT-7214, trooper in the 212th attack battalion under general Obi Wan Kenobi. My commander was Cody, but I didn’t know any of the other clones well. </p><p>“Thank you. I’m… I’m sorry you never even got a real name, but I promise that I will do my best to honor your legacy. Vor entye, vod.”</p><p>      His breath was coming in slower and shallower. I cradled him closer to my chest. </p><p>“I… think I know what… what I want to be called… Dreamer… cause I got to… make someone’s dream… come true…” </p><p>      I gave a small laugh and pressed my forehead to his. </p><p>“Yes, you did, Dreamer. You did.” I brushed a loose strand of golden brown hair out of my eyes and told myself I would not cry. I have seen death before and I would not cry. Again, I lied. </p><p>His voice rose, barely above a whisper. </p><p>“Good luck… trooper… ”</p><p>     And he was gone. And I was left wiping the tears from my eyes. </p><p>“Thank you. For everything.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I never knew... that I could matter in this world.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which our girl gets on the Negotiator and wonders if she made the right choice. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, next chapter! I didn’t get as far along as I could’ve but... school. I’ll post the next one soon though! Hope it’s okay! And any editing suggestions are super helpful! Constructive criticism is welcome!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’d just finished putting the helmet, when I heard footsteps in the trees. The clones’ calls ricocheting from one armoured soldier to the other, asking over positions and casualties. Quickly, I knelt down in an attempt to look like I was doing something other than awkwardly standing there and grabbed the closest blaster. </p>
<p>It was a DC-15s blaster carbine, which meant it was the standard issue blaster for troopers. I’m fairly familiar with it’s settings, and it’s lightweight build will make it look even more like it’s natural for me to shoot. Also, I’ll blend in even more. </p>
<p>As the clones made their way past me, I tried to disappear into their ranks and follow them. The biggest difficulty was the armour. It’s heavy and bulky on my slight frame and obviously, not built for females. Walking like a man wouldn’t be much of a problem in this armour compared to just walking in general. Well, could be worse, I console myself. </p>
<p>I scan the clones around me, conspicuously of course, in hopes of finding clones whose armour looks like mine. Mine is all white with a gold steak on the top of the helmet, marking me as a part of the 212th. However, so many of the clones had even more yellow on their armour and stylized designs and logos from who knows where. I assume this means that they’ve been in the battalion longer and got a chance to personalize the armour, but I know if I stay next to those clones, I’m going to stick out like a Greater Krayt Dragon. Well, maybe not greater. More like a Canyon Krayt Dragon. </p>
<p>I slow my pace until the clones surrounding me have white armour as well. Dreamer told me that I should stick with the Shinies so I’ll stay next to the newer clones. I hope none of them know me. Or make me talk. I didn’t think through the talking part as much as I wish I did. It did, surprisingly, end up being a fairly silent march back. I couldn’t tell if the 212th had won or not and I wasn’t about to ask. </p>
<p>Soon enough, we reached the LAAT gunships that will carry us to the Negotiator, which Dreamer said was the 212ths Star Destroyer. Apparently, it’s named after General Kenobi’s persona as the negotiator. Which, honestly, is kind of awesome. But as much as I hope to see the general, I’m also worried that if he sees me, he’ll know that I’m not a clone. Hopefully I’m new enough that he hasn’t gotten acquainted with my force signature. </p>
<p>As we approach the gunships, I grow even more nervous. I didn’t think this through. I really, really didn’t think this through. They’re going to find me out. The clones are going to hear my voice and know I’m not one of them. Or find out that I’m a girl. I can’t do this. And I can’t… I’ll be leaving my family. To be honest, they probably won’t care. Well my little sister Tilly might miss me, but no one else. My parents are working to make sure my older brothers can go to school and so they can provide for us all. They’ll be one less mouth to feed without me, and if they were too busy to notice me before they probably won’t notice when I’m gone. I’m still grateful though that my dad taught me to shoot. And that my mom taught me to heal. </p>
<p>I had always tried to get a job and help out, but no one in our town would pay a girl. At least now I can do something that matters, I think as I walk into the gunship. I can make a difference, and who knows? Maybe they won’t find out who I am. I can do this. I can do this. I give a subtle wave as we leave my planet, and picture all I’m going to do as a clone.</p>
<p>“Trooper, hold on!” </p>
<p>I’m startled out of my thoughts at the commanding voice directed at me. After a brief hesitation, I grab a strap on the roof of the gunship with one hand, the other holding my blaster. I’m tempted to say something like ‘yes sir’ or ‘sorry sir’ before remembering that I definitely do not sound like a clone. Instead, I give a sharp nod, and try to pay more attention to my surroundings.  </p>
<p>The clone that called me out is staring at me a bit strangely. He has a lot more gold on his armour than most of the clones; shoulder plates, visor, knee guards, and a few other streaks decorate his plastoid armour. The strangest thing about him, though, is that all the clones seem to be looking up to him, as if he’s the most important thing on this ship...</p>
<p>Kriff.</p>
<p>I’m being analyzed by the commander. That must be Cody. Cursing inwardly, I try to act as much like the other clones as I can. I stand up straighter but bend my knees a bit, turn by body a bit more towards him, and attempt to be as manly as I can. Not really sure what that means, but I’m doing it anyway. </p>
<p>Cody takes a small step towards me, looking as if he’s about to ask me something or do something that will make me blow my cover. But before he has a chance, we are in the hanger of the Negotiator, and the doors are opening. As hastily as I can without looking like I’m running I step out of the gunship and into the hanger. Some of the shinies are headed towards one end of the hanger, and I hurry to follow. Thank the force that we landed on the star destroyer before the commander could say anything. </p>
<p>The hanger is filled with LAAT gunships, starfighters, and bustling clones. I resist the urge to spin in a circle and take it all in. Never being on a ship this big can do that to a person. Same with never being off planet, I discern. I’m actually going to go to space! Again, I have to resist the urge to act like a toddler, spin, and giggle. That would draw a whole lot of attention. </p>
<p>As I head out of the hanger and into the corridor, I can’t help but wonder how it must feel to do this all the time. Travel in Star Destroyers, fly in LAAT gunships, and travel the galaxy. I let out a soft hum, hopefully soft enough that the other clones didn’t hear. Guess I’m going to find out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay! Second chapter, done. Hope you all like it! Again, any ideas for original clone names are awesome and if there are any clone wars episodes you want to see the behind the scenes (clone scenes), I can see if I can fit them in my plot! Also, is it too short? I can’t decide if I should make my chapters longer or not. Well enjoy! and PS comments make me write faster!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I never knew... that friends come just that easy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which our girl in disguise gets a friend, a name, and reveals a bit to much. Well, maybe more than a bit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 3! Hope it’s good! It’s a little longer than the last ones but I like it! Sorry for not the quickest update, but I think it was pretty fast for having a school! </p><p>Translations:<br/>Burc’ya: mate or pal</p><p>P.S I will not translate words I already have the definition of in previous chapters. You can look back.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The barracks weren’t nearly as crowded as I thought they might be, but still held a lot of clones. The beds lining the sides of the barracks were mostly bunks with a thin mattress and a simple pillow and blanket set. Not all that comfy but I can make do. </p><p>I come to a halt in the middle of the room, realization washes over me in an anxious wave. I don’t actually know what bunk is mine. Or what to do. Maybe I can just pick one and hope being a shiny excuses me, or better yet wait until all the beds but Dreamers - mine - are full. I think I’ll run with the latter. However, after a glance around a clone saves me from having to stand awkwardly in the middle of the barracks.</p><p>“Hey, vod! What’s your number?” A clone sitting on a lower bunk to my right takes his helmet off as he addresses me. His amber eyes held a mischievous but warm glow as he inquired about my identification number. He had medium length black brown hair that spiked up in random places. Making him look either crazier or cuter. Depending on your point of view. I haven’t made up mine yet.</p><p>I attempt to deepen my voice as I answer but make sure to keep soft tones so my accent can’t give me away. “CT-7214,” I responded quickly.</p><p>His eyebrows raise.</p><p>My lips curl as irritation sparks in me. “And you?” I say with a bit of a bite in my voice. </p><p>The clone trooper smiles and leans back on his hands. “CT-7210, but you can call me Chance.” He looks me up and down, and I resist the urge to walk out before he can realize something while also restraining myself from slapping him for looking at me so brazenly. When his eyes make their way back to my helmet, he asks another question: “You’re a shiny?” </p><p>My lips twitch again, and I adjust my hold on my blaster. I’m positive my voice would sound higher if I keep speaking when I’m frustrated, so I just nod. Chance points to the bunk above his. </p><p>“This is yours, 7214,” he scrunches his nose in disgust, “We really need to think of a real name for you.” </p><p>I give him a halfhearted glare that I hope he can feel through my helmet as I climb the ladder to the top bunk. Settling myself into a cross legged position, I lean back against the wall. I almost close my eyes, it must be late because I’m fairly exhausted, yet a face pops up above the mattress. </p><p>The trooper’s outstretched hand offers to take my blaster and I oblige. He tucks in in a draw under his bunk and pops back above the edge. </p><p>“Why, Chance?” I ask before I can stop myself. I really hope I’m doing a decent impression of a clone. Said trooper smirks at me and folds his tanned hands beneath his chin. </p><p>“Well, when I first got into the 212th, we were going on a mission at Christophsis. Droid armies had inside intelligence, and so knew our very move. When my squad and I got cut off from the rest of the team, I charged the droids in front of us with no cover. Just a E-11 blaster rifle and a whole lot of ego.” I laughed a bit at that. “Obviously,” he drawled, “I inspired great confidence in my squad, so they all copied my charge and we regrouped with the rest of the 212th. Our squad leader quipped at me that I had taken a huge chance and was lucky to get away unscathed. Or relatively.” He paused. “Anyway, the name Chance just stuck from then on I guess.” </p><p>I smile at him, even if he can’t see, content to ignore the little hole in the story for now. “Well, Chance, you got a good name. Though I’m surprised you weren’t named ego instead.” </p><p>He let out a belt of laughter. I really should stop talking, I might blow it, but I’ve never really had friends and he seems like someone I might have hung out with. </p><p>“Seems you’ve got a sharp tongue there, vod. And by the way, that could have happened if we didn’t already have an Ego.” He tsked and then stopped. “Wait, great idea. Tell me a story from your past and I’ll think of a name for you. Up for it burc’ya?” </p><p>I contemplated this for a second. He looked so eager, and was treating me really well. If I get on his good side, he might be able to help me navigate this clone thing more. And besides, it’d be extremely suspicious not too. I can just twist one of the street fights I participated in.</p><p>“You’re on, vod.” I slip into using mando’a terms to sound more like a clone. I’ve never been more grateful for my childhood obsession in my life. “No questions though, I promise it’s a true story.”</p><p>Chance gave me a teasing salute and stared at me expectantly. </p><p>“Okay so less than a year ago, my squad and I were separated looking for a bounty hunter on Coruscant. I was assigned for guard duty for a while, before joining the 212th,” I lied smoothly. </p><p>“We were searching the streets, when a group of bounty hunters snuck up on us and spread us around in the crowd. I couldn’t see my batch mates for the longest time until I heard blaster shots to my left. I raced there and when I arrived my vod was dead with three hunters standing above him. I wasn’t aware that we were looking for more than one but, at the moment I didn’t care. I had lost my blaster when we were separated at first, so I grabbed a brass pipe and ran at the hunters. It turned out a surprisingly good weapon, because I had two of them unconscious in minutes. The third however managed to slice my thigh with his knife before I could hit him.” I smiled a grim smile, “Of course, I had to return the favor and possibly cracked his skull. The commotion had drawn the rest of my squad over and we carried our brother away.” </p><p>In reality, this story was mostly realistic. The rich kids in my town were pissed at me for stealing the flag in our towns capture the flag game. They knew the best way to get back at me was to hurt my sister. So they went after her. The clone who died was in place of my little sister. However she didn’t die because rich teenagers aren’t all that blood thirsty, but I couldn’t really explain why the bounty hunter wouldn’t kill them. The pipe-fighting, and knife wound were true though, and I did end up knocking two unconscious and cracked the skull of the third. They lived, though.</p><p>“That’s basically the most interesting battle I’ve had yet. I mean, if you can call it a battle. So… what do you think?”</p><p>Chance made a show of considering the story before his eyes lit up and he stood a little straighter. </p><p>“Brass. You seem feisty, strong, determined, and unbreakable. And brass is a pretty strong metal. Also, brass pipe.” I mirror his smirk.</p><p>I hummed happily. Chance gave me a strange look and I hurriedly responded in a deeper voice. </p><p>“I like it. Brass it is.”</p><p>“So… You going to take that bucket off?” Chance’s chin rests on the edge of my new bed, one eyebrow raised and amber eyes glowing, but behind that a hint of confusion and suspicion. </p><p>“No,” I assume that him saying ‘bucket’ means helmet. I maneuver myself onto my back and as when Chance opens his mouth I beat him to it. “Goodnight, 7210” I quip just to tease him, infusing a bit of humor in my tone. </p><p>His mischievous smile flips into a good natured frown. “Chance.”</p><p>I fold my arms under my head and pretend to go to sleep. “Fine. G’night, Chance.” </p><p>The trooper's head disappeared under the top bunk, and I listened to the rustling of sheets and a muffled “Night, Brass” as he climbed into his bed. Throughout the barracks, the rest of the clones were doing the same, and only a few beds remained empty. </p><p>I waited a few minutes after the lights went out sit up again. My first evening as a clone was going pretty good. I wasn’t figured out, I know my place in the barracks, and talked to a clone who didn’t seem too suspicious about me. I think. I can just follow Chance around at battles and on the starship unless ordered otherwise. The closeness of his identification number probably means we came here around the same time. Though we likely aren’t batch mates, otherwise he would have known something was up. I wonder who Dreamer’s batch mates were. I want to hope they didn’t all perish with him, but I also don’t want to see them in case they catch onto my ploy. I pinch myself, in between my upper arm guard and my bracers, to admonish my selfishness. I do hope they’re alive. </p><p>I glance around at all the beds, double checking that everyone is still asleep. I need to go to the bathroom and see if I can make adjustments to dreamers armour. I didn’t have time to put the blacks on underneath the plastoid, so I’m still wearing my civilian clothes. I’ll have to change out of those when I get there. However, if anyone is in the bathroom, I won’t be able to change. If I take any part of my armour off, and most certainly the helmet, because they’ll recognize me. And while nerve-wrecking is an understatement for being discovered, the part I’m most worried about is the fact that it’s a men’s bathroom. Okay, yeah, it’s silly but I’ve never been in one. Like ever. I hope I don’t have to watch any clones pee in front of me, and I really hope we don’t have to take communal showers or something. I’ll have to skip and then I might not even be able to take one! </p><p>I shudder as I stick my head over the edge to see if Chance is asleep. The clone is lying on his side and facing the wall, sides rising up and down rhythmically with his breath. I honestly can’t tell for sure, but he looks asleep enough. With that in mind, I slip my armour clad legs as silently as I can over the edge of the bunk and drop to the ground, landing light-footed and sure. I slowly make my way towards the hall, foregoing tiptoeing because of the armour. Looking around both corners and checking behind me subtly, I step into the hall. Not one clone passes me as I move towards the communal bathroom. </p><p>The bathroom is pristinely white and filled with urinals and only one miniature stall. I sigh and bite my lip. Of course privacy wouldn’t be considered necessary for men who all look the same and grew up together. </p><p>After examining the stall, I decided to take my armour off outside it. It’s just too kriffing tiny to change in. Hopefully, all the clones are asleep, just like how I left my barracks. I pull off the helmet and let my light golden-brown hair tumble across my shoulders. Next, I unbuckle the armour lining my arms. I remove the shoulder plates and chest piece, and the rest of the plastoid slowly makes its way to the floor. I’m left standing in an off white v necked T-shirt, brown trousers belted to my waist, and knee high boots that I barely got to fit under my armour. I pull out Dreamer’s blacks from my boot, and slip the top over my head. It’s huge and not even close to tight fitting at all.</p><p>I frown at my reflection in the mirror, the white of my top poking out from under the black shirt. I could never be considered beautiful, the sharp lines and curves of my face aren’t necessarily pretty, but beauty wasn’t necessarily an asset where I come from. My full lips are pulled into an anxious line, freckles scattered across my scrunched up nose and cheeks. My hair, falling down to just below my collarbone, frames my face and my eyelashes outline brown eyes. The deep colored orbs are filled with worry, stress, exhaustion, and sadness. However if I look close enough I can see the determination that comes from hope shining from those deeps. I give my reflection a small smile. I made it this far, I can make it the rest of the way. </p><p>I pull the black long sleeved shirt back over my head and notice something staring back at me in the mirror. And it isn’t just my reflection. Though those eyes do widen in surprise and horror, maybe a little bit of terror as well. Chance is standing in the door of the bathroom, jaw gaping and eyes fixed in my helmet-less face. </p><p>“Brass?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh no! Cliffhanger! And how do you guys like the name Brass? I think it’s pretty cool. Also, any suggestions for clone names are still welcome. Constructive criticism is great and if my tense is off or strange please do tell me. I struggle with that. </p><p>Also, I realize that no one has probably read this yet, or no one is commenting. So ya know, if ya like it please comment! I’m planning on going though behind the scenes of the whole clone wars, and comments make me write better and faster! And I don’t even care if you just want to tell me about your day. Doesn’t matter. And even if no one comments, I’m gonna keep talking in the notes like someone’s reading this. Cause i mean, maybe someday someone will. And I can talk to myself. Definitely not crazy at all.</p><p>So sorry for the cliffhanger, I’ll get right on writing more now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I never knew… that trust is worth more than dirt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So sorry! Haven’t posted in a while. Whoops! Life caught up with me. Here’s chapter 4. Hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Chance, I can explain.”</p>
<p>I almost smack myself in the face at the cliche quip. At least it’s better than voicing how screwed I feel. Wincing, I try to follow through before Chance can make a move. I actually thought his jaw was going to smack the ground before he beat me to speaking. </p>
<p>“You’re a girl.” His shock died down a bit as he released his thoughts in a simple few words. </p>
<p>I was caught between wanting to flinch and sass back something like ‘so what?’ Chance looked so beaten and confused and torn, but the worst was the hint of heart wrenching betrayal written across his features. It was then that I realized, in the few minutes that I had spoken to him, he had given his trust to me… </p>
<p>And I broke it. </p>
<p>I looked down and started to try and explain. To fix the hurt in his eyes and change it to some fraction of understanding. </p>
<p>“I… yeah, I’m a girl. I…” I swallow and he stares at me expectantly, hurt fading just a bit under a stead-fast fierceness and determination, so I couldn’t bring myself to berate myself. </p>
<p>“Let me start from the beginning.” I turned to fully face Chance and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. Taking a deep breath I continued. “Did you… know 7214?” </p>
<p>“No.” His eyes dropped from mine. “I did know that you were the only one of your batch to make it back from our last battle. That’s why I didn’t question not taking your armour off.” He said that last bit with a bit of accusation riding his tone. </p>
<p>I bite my lip. Turns out my selfish thoughts were true. </p>
<p>“His name was Dreamer.” I whisper. “I was a civilian on Arbiflux, before he gave me a chance.” A faint smirk rides my lips. “No pun intended.”</p>
<p>Chance lowered his brows, but the betrayal in his eyes was dimming slightly more with amusement in its place. He took a more serious facade, however, as I continued.</p>
<p>“I always wanted a chance to fight for what I believe in. I wanted to be a jedi once.” I puff the same wayward strand out of my face for the second time. “Then I wanted to be a clone. But obviously, I’m not one, as you’ve noticed.”<br/>I bend to drop the black undershirt on the ground in an attempt to hide from the betrayal that was sure to arise in him again at that observation. Looking up through my lashes, I see only sadness in his eyes, posture, and face as I straighten. </p>
<p>“I learned some Mando’a from my father, and learned to heal from my mom. I never told them why, but I used the skills to attempt and help fallen vode behind the republic lines. That’s what I was doing when I found him - Dreamer.” I felt something slip down my cheek and raised my hand to catch the tear I had promised I wouldn’t shed. </p>
<p>“He was… too wounded for me to heal, so he asked me to tell him stories. Of my life. My dreams.” I let a smile grace my lips in memory of him. “And he decided he could give me a chance to fulfill them. Hence the name he decided on.”</p>
<p>Another tear escaped my lashes, but this time it wasn’t me who caught it. Chance’s hand was against my cheek. He still kept some distance, and the betrayal was still evident in his eyes, but the warmth of his hand felt like some sort of blessed forgiveness that my tears set free, pouring down my face. </p>
<p>“He told me to take his armour and his place in the army. To fight for me and for him.” My voice sounded a bit hoarse now but I persisted. “He said his number was 7214, and that he was in the 212th attack battalion. And then he… was gone.”</p>
<p>I reached up to wipe my tears, and then wrapped my fingers around Chance’s hand. My voice came out steadier now. </p>
<p>“I grabbed his armour, blacks, a blaster, and slipped his helmet on just in time to walk back with the other clones. And, well, here I am.”</p>
<p>I waited. A silence like a string was taunt between us. I could not, would not move, not to blink or shuffle my feet or move the wayward strand of hair out of my eyes. I was afraid that if I look up, the eyes that had given me their trust still held broken betrayal. I was afraid that if I shuffle my feet, my facade, my dream, would come crashing down at my feet. I was afraid that if I brush that strand of hair, this moment of maybe, of hope that I might not be done for, would be over for good. I debated for a good long minute whether it was worth ending this moment. Whether I should stay here forever. </p>
<p>But then the string was cut. </p>
<p>“Gar cuyir dini’la.” </p>
<p>I lifted my face to gaze at his own, with a smirk curving my lips and relief, gratitude, and amusement in my eyes, because his own aren’t shining with betrayal. They are shining with friendship. And maybe, hopefully, trust. </p>
<p>He quips again, “I assume that smirk means you actually do know Mando’a?” My smirk grew. “What did I say, then?”</p>
<p>“You said, I was insane.” I slap him playfully on the arm and duck when he attempts to reciprocate. “Or’dini.”</p>
<p>Chance leans over, grabs my helmet, and holds it out to me. He looks content, contrasting drastically to his posture and facade a few minutes ago. </p>
<p>“Does this mean, you won’t turn me in?” I can’t believe that just telling him what happened would lead to him being okay with it. And I did much more than break the rules. </p>
<p>Chance’s beautiful amber eyes pull mine towards them. “No, Brass. I won’t. I promise.”</p>
<p>I take my helmet from him, brushing my thumb over the golden stripe, and relishing in the landscape of the helmet's surface, smooth but with a scant few scratches. </p>
<p>“And… you forgive me? For breaking your trust?” I question after gathering my bravery to ask what was really bothering me. </p>
<p>He places his hand on my shoulder conspiratorially, after a second, and whispers in my ear. “As long as you tell me why you were actually hitting people with a brass pipe.” His warm breath left my ear tingling as he pulled away. He smirked, his quirky, sassy smirk again. “And how ‘bout I add even more to the offer. I’ll even help you stay hidden if you tell me how no one noticed you walked weird wearing that armour. You’re tiny!”</p>
<p>“Am not!” I can’t help the almost squeal as a warm bubbly feeling heats my chest. He doesn’t care if I’m a girl. He isn’t going to turn me in. And more importantly, he forgave me. And… trusts me again, if the amiable way he is acting is anything to go by. </p>
<p>Holding out his hand, Chance lifts his chin, smile going even wider. “Friends?”</p>
<p>I grasp his rough, warm hand. Firmly, but tentatively. I’ve never had friends, only fake ones. But now I have you, I thought. And you are anything but fake, Chance. “Friends.”</p>
<p>I shoved the blacks back in my boots, picked my armour up off the floor, and started strapping it back on as Chance peppered me with questions. </p>
<p>“Why were you not changing in the stall? I would never have seen you then! And how the heck did you fit those boots under the armour? What did you do with your hair?”</p>
<p>I patiently finish strapping on my armour before answering. Secretly glad for his barrage of questions so I didn't have to dwell on how the heck I was going to survive this. </p>
<p>“First, the stall is WAY too small, and there aren’t any bigger ones. Haven’t you boys heard of something called privacy? Second, I shoved. Hard. Third…” </p>
<p>Handing my helmet to Chance, I pull all my hair behind me, twirl it between my fingers, like you would if you were making a bun, and folded it up on top of my head. I retake my helmet and slip it over my head before my hair can go back to its normal position. Just in time to make it to the barracks. I lower my voice as I finish, both pitch-wise and to a whisper, “Just like that.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Was that okay? I don’t have an editor or anything so constructive criticism and edits are welcome. Thanks for reading. I really appreciate comments! <br/>Translations:<br/>Do you need the first one? Eh. She said it. <br/>Or’dinii: moron or fool</p>
<p>Come back soon! I’ll attempt to get a 5th chapter up by next week.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aaah. Sorry for the cliffhanger... not. But it wasn’t really that bad, was it? Also, was the chapter length alright? Or is longer or shorter better? Thanks sooooo much for reading. And this will include a lot of 212th clones, but if you have any name suggestions for original clones or even 212th clones I should add, please leave a comment! Thanks again!</p><p>Translations:<br/>Ni ceta, vod.      I’m sorry, brother<br/>Gar taab'echaaj'la solus.    You marched far away alone.<br/>Re'turcye mhi, vod.  Goodbye, brother<br/>Vode.    Brothers<br/>Vor entrye.     Thank you</p></blockquote></div></div>
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